


Kill The Lone Dark

by StarSlayersFantasy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Remembers, Canon-Typical Violence, Civil war will happen down the line, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flashbacks, Past Brainwashing, Past Torture, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-02-07 19:25:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12847890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSlayersFantasy/pseuds/StarSlayersFantasy
Summary: There are few things that Bucky Barnes remembers, a random set of coordinates that lead him to a hut in the middle of an Alaskan forest is the one thing that constantly plays over and over in his mind. He plans to find out why.





	1. Chapter 1

The blizzard surrounded the forest covered valley with snow that was falling hard and fast, and a howling wind that sent the trees swaying violently back and forth, creaking and groaning in the storm. Even under the shelter of the thick forest of evergreens, the snow was becoming waist deep and impossible to navigate through. 

The crunching of feet on the deep snow was inaudible in the howling winds as a figure trudged through the deep snow. She blended in perfectly with the frozen forest, wearing only white colours that merged with the surroundings. Her face was covered from the elements by a balaclava and snow goggles strapped tightly to her face and a large insulated coat that had a hood lined with fluffy grey fur. The woman had a large Alaskan Hare thrown over her back, its feet still tied to the snare it was caught in and its head flopping about loosely from a broken neck. She had a compound bow strung up on her back under the hare with a full quiver of arrows attached to it, but that wasn't the only protection on her as she hurriedly clawed through the snow, eager to return to the shelter of her log cabin. Under her large insulated coat, pressed against coldly against her back and tucked into the waist of thermal trousers was a .45 calibre pistol ready to have its safety clicked off and fired in an instant. 

It wasn't much farther to go but in the heavy snow, it felt like a lifetime to Anthea, she knew the forest well enough to no longer get lost when a storm showed, but even now there was a struggle to find her way back. She had set out early in the morning when it looked like the storm wouldn't pass by for hours yet, only by the time she had reached her snares the snow had set in heavier than she had anticipated. The journey that took a good forty minutes in the morning was now taking hours. 

Anthea paused in the deep snow. The howling of the wind had grown louder and more animalistic, the pack of wolves crying out in the distance were growing louder by the minute. Only in the storm, she couldn't be sure, there was a chance that they were far away and the baying of the pack was carrying on the wind. This pack had caused nought but trouble for her over the months, beating her to the snares she set out and driving any of the larger prey away from the area. That they would show up now was an inconvenience that she was prepared for. Picking up the pace again she continued through the forest with more speed and strength in her steps as she pushed through the snow.

She grew farther away from the pack, and by the sound of it, they had caught wind of something more interesting than her, the wolves were on the hunt, but at least it wasn't her they were on the trail of. Her muscles were screaming at her as she walked, the exhaustion in her legs from the large continuous steps she was having to take in the snow. The blizzard was even stronger now and the cold was starting to take root in her bones even with all her layers on. She knew that if she stopped for even a minute to rest there was a possibility the storm would only worsen and she would be unable to make it back, and that would surely mean she'd die from exposure to the elements. It was a thought that made her keep going.

The trees were becoming thicker in this part of the forest and she found the snow less of a workout to move through as it became shallower. The cabin was barely a half mile away now and she sped up at the thought of lighting a fire in the log burner and warming her bones beside the fire. At last the small log building was in view and instead of heading straight into the cabin and warming herself she made a b line for the small shed-like building about 30 metres away from the cabin. She entered the small shack and hung the hare up by the snare tied around its feet on a hook hanging from the ceiling before stepping back outside again. There was a small metal box used as a freezer that had been half buried in the ground next to the shack, the cold ground acted just as good as a powered freezer. She opened it up and removed a trout she had caught while fishing earlier that week. 

At last, she made her way to her cabin and practically threw herself over the threshold and slammed the door shut behind herself. It was a small two-roomed hut consisting of one large room that contained a log burner in the centre with its metal chimney rising up into a hole in the roof. Next to it was an old and worn out two seater sofa that had no arms and barely any padding left, although it had a hand knitted blanket covering it completely, a bookshelf occupied the corner of the room next to the door that leads into the tiny bedroom. In the opposite corner, there was a small kitchen with a small circular table with two chairs and there was no stove or sink but a basin of water next to one of the counters instead and the cupboards were filled with food provisions. 

She set the fish down on the chopping board and proceeded to start pulling her goggles and balaclava off. The room was cold but none the less a shelter from the raging snowstorm outside. Anthea pulled the bow and its quiver off of her back and hung it up by the door where hunting rifle hung as well. she unzipped the front of her coat and knelt down next to the log burner and started packing it with kindling that had been piled next to it, lighting the fire before standing back up. She pulled her hood back up and opened the door and stepped outside into the harsh blizzard again and shut the door tight behind her to stop any drafts from getting into the cabin. 

The wolves had gotten close by in the time that she had been inside her cabin, their howling was louder than the storm as if they were surrounding the cabin. She didn't see any in the forest around her, so she circled round to the log store behind the cabin and filled the basket next to it with the wood before checking the woods once again to make sure they weren't getting too close.

Anthea headed back round to the entrance of the cabin. She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of the door that was now ajar.  _The door she had made a point to shut properly._  

She quietly placed the basket of logs on the ground and reached under the back of her coat and removed the pistol that was tucked into her belt and clicked the safety off. She raised it up high and slowly and hesitantly made her way to the door. She pushed it open slowly with her foot and aimed her gun at the intruder who stood by the far wall next to the kitchen window. 

The man wore a heavy coat with a hood pulled up and a scar around his mouth and long brown hair fell on his face, obscuring it from her view. His gun was pointed directly at her face while one hand gripped the windowsill for stability while the hand he was using to hold the gun was shaking, not from fear but from a deep wound in his side that she could see seeping blood through the coat. 

"Who are you?" Anthea questioned, her gun held steadily and pointed directly at the spot between his eyes. When he didn't answer she raised her voice and said it again only this time it was a demand "Who the hell are you?!" 

He released the hand that had been holding onto the windowsill all the while still training the gun at her face and pulled the hood and scarf down and pushed the hair away from his eyes. Her breath hitched at the sight of him. A man she never thought she would see again. Bucky Barnes stood in front of her now. He had changed since she had last seen him all those years ago. Older, not just physically, but no boyish face that he had had when they had first met. Instead, his deep blue eyes looked haunted and gaunt checks of a man who had suffered. 

"Did Hydra send you?" she asked, and it was almost inaudible with the storm raging behind, she still hadn't closed the door again, she moved slowly to the side and used her foot to push it shut.

"No" it felt like a defiant answer, almost challenging her to say otherwise. 

"Jesus Christ, Barnes, how did you find me out here?" she lowered her gun slowly and held it to the side of her as a sign of peace.

Bucky lowered his gun, looking like he was about ready to pass out. He didn't bother responding to her question. Instead, he slunk down into one of her kitchen chairs and pulled the backpack he was wearing off with his metal arm and placed it under the table before he dropped his gun on the surface. It was still accessible for him to grab quickly if he so decided, but it was enough of a gesture to show he wasn't about to shoot her. 

"Is it ok if I take a look at that wound?" she asked, and she placed the gun back into the back of her belt and took a hesitant step toward him. 

The lack of an objection seemed to mean it was okay for her to approach him. She threw open one of the cupboards and pulled down the first aid kit that had been sat on the top shelf. Thankfully she rarely needed to use such a thing.

Anthea placed the kit on the table, next to the gun that lay on its old bumpy surface. She purposely blocked his reach of the firearm with the kit, something he didn't notice due to his injured, half-conscious state.

"Get the layers off while I start the fire back up" She commanded him before turning towards the log burner that had gone out from the wind while the door was open. She headed to the door and pulled it open and stepped outside and collected the basket of wood she had discarded by the door and bought it inside and placed it next to the wood burner. She knelt down in front of the fire once again and put the remainder of the kindling into the log burner and waited for it to catch before putting the two dryest logs into the burner. She stood up and pulled her coat off and hung it up by the door on a hook next to the bow before pulling her gloves off and chucking them at the sofa before sitting down on it and removing the heavy snow boots she was wearing. Anthea stood back up and removed her gun from her belt and put it on the kitchen counter before pulling down the waterproof thermal trousers she had on over the top of a pair of leggings. 

Bucky had managed to pull his coat, and the jacket he wore underneath off and Anthea could see the red patch of blood that covered most of his right side.

"Do you mind if I cut you out of that shirt?" she asked him gently. He nodded his go ahead and she pulled the pair of fabric scissors out of the kit and knelt down by him and went to work cutting the shirt away 

"What do you remember?" she spoke quietly. Her eyes never leaving his torso. 

"Enough" his eyes never left her face as he spoke to her.

"How much is enough?" she looked up at him her question drawing her eyes to his. Giving her head a slight shake, she picked up a pack of disinfectant wipes from the first aid kit and started to clean away all the blood from what looked to be a knife wound that had been crudely sewn up.

"What they did to me. The stuff they made me do" His breathing grew faster as the memories flooded into his mind.

She said nothing as she cleaned the wound and started to remove the stitches from his side. The silence grew between them and neither wished to be the one to break it so she continued dealing with the cut. He winced as she ripped some of the more stuck in there stitching out of him. She took the suturing pack out of the kit and got to work at cleaning the wound more thoroughly and then sewing it up. Each time she pushed the needle through his flesh his left hand gripped the frame of the chair and would bend the metal in on itself. Bucky was sweating even in the room that hadn't heated up yet and Anthea feared he might be fighting an infection. 

Anthea cleared her throat before finally speaking "They would never have let you just up and leave, so how did you escape them?" 

Bucky grunted out what sounded like ' _backpack_ ', so she pulled it out from under the table and opened it up, it was filled with odd bits and bobs, but the small journal drew her attention as she could see a picture of Captain America sticking out of one of the pages. She pulled it out from the bag and underneath it was an old newspaper from roughly one year previously.

It was titled 'THE _FALL OF S.H.I.E.L.D_ ' she pulled the paper out and put the journal back into the backpack. Inside the paper, it detailed the destruction of the Triskelion and the info dump that revealed all of Shields files and in the process revealed Hydra to the world. She read through the paper taking in as much of the information as she could. 

"You know me," He said it like a question but she knew there was more to it than that. 

"Yes," It was her turn to give one worded answers, he chose not to press her for more information right now. She pressed the back of her bloodstained hand to his forehead and it was almost unbearably hot "Your getting a fever"

He opened his mouth to retort back but she quickly interjected before he could start "Don't give me that crap about the serum stopping that kind of thing, you are running on fumes, Barnes. If your body is barely functioning the serum isn't just going to magically fix everything. Now stand up so I can dress that properly"

He winced as he slowly moved into a standing position, she was right, his body was running on fumes, he hadn't eaten in God knows how long, and even then he hadn't exactly been the most well fed. And the last time he slept was at least five days ago.

She wrapped her arms around his waist as she pulled the bandages around his back, almost like she was embracing him and something in that felt very familiar to Bucky.

Once the dressing was on, she led him to the sofa and pulled the blanket off of it. "Lay down there. The fire is starting to get hot now. You might be able to sweat the fever out." He practically threw himself down onto the uncomfortable two-seater and while most of his body stuck out over one end he looked relatively comfortable, but she suspected that it was probably the closest thing to a bed he had had in a while. She chucked the knitted blanket over him.

"I will make you some food, Barnes. In the meantime, try and get some sleep" She said softly. 

She was certain she heard him mumble something along the lines of  _'Bucky'. Not, Barnes'_ before he promptly fell asleep.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_October 18th, 1948_

_The room was a cold void of nothing. The darkness had all but consumed the man inside._

_It was small, a claustrophobic box of stained concrete and old chipped tiles with a grim array of stains covering them. In the centre of the tiled room, there was a small drain on the floor along with a distinct smell of urine clinging to the tiles._

_In the corner of the room, a man sat a with his knees pulled up to his chin and his right arm wrapped around them while his left was a stump covered in thick and ugly scars from lack of proper medical treatment. He was almost skeletal in his frame and his old uniform was nought but soiled rags that hung from his body. He had thin wispy brown hair that was matted and greasy and a and patchy beard that grew inconsistently on his malnourished body._

_An audible groan escaped his lips as the bright white lights of his room suddenly cut through the darkness and he struggled to shield his eyes from the blinding streak over his vision. A man stepped into the cell and threw an ice-cold bucket of water over the soldier who gasped and spluttered from the shock of cold water hitting his body. He shook violently from the cold that covered him. The man turned and left the room without saying anything to the soldier.  
_

_Minutes turned into hours and the soldier sat there shivering from the cold damp of his clothes until the cell door opened once again and two guards who looked like they could barely stand side by side in the tiny cell grabbed his shoulders and wrenched him into an upright position. They dragged him from the small room, the guard on his left dug his long nails into the stump of the soldier's arm as they pulled him through the damp and dark hallways, the walls dripped with damp, and the lights flickered feebly._

_They entered a large tiled room that was unbearably bright to the soldier's eyes. A tall woman with broad shoulders and blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun stood in the centre of the room, next to a small table and a hard backed chair. "Stand over there" she commanded in a thick Russian accent as she pointed at the far wall._

_The two guards dragged the soldier to the wall where she had pointed and stood him upright above a drain in the ground. "Разделите его" she ordered the guards. The soldier did not understand what she had said at first, but after the two men ripped his tattered uniform and underwear away from his body and left him standing naked he realised it meant something along the lines of 'Strip him'. She nodded to the two guards, and they left the room slamming the door shut behind them._

_The woman walked over to a hose attached to the wall. The soldier knew what was coming. She threw an old cloth at him and turned the hose on aiming it at him. The icy water enveloped him and no longer did her shiver with the feeling. Instead, his body became numb to the sensation of pain_

_"Scrub" she commanded was again. The soldier did not hesitate to follow the order._

_He scrubbed his body until it was raw and clean, once he was done she pointed to the chair by the small table and he stumbled towards it, his feet ready to give out at any moment. Grabbing onto the table, he slowly lowered himself into the chair. "Shave" an order. He picked up the small mirror on the table._

_It was not the face of Bucky Barnes that stared back at him. But an unrecognisable man, with hollow cheeks and gaunt eyes that were no longer the vivid blue they had always been, instead they were pale and blank to the world beyond. His hair had grown long and knotted while his beard was thin and patchy._

_Bucky placed the mirror back onto the table, then he picked up the razor and studied it. Maybe if he broke it in just the right spot, he could sneak one of the blades back to his cell where at last he could leave the pain and be free from it once more. But she watched him like a hawk, and he knew that there would be no chance to break it and sneak the blade away._

_Once his weak attempt at shaving was over the woman walked over and took the razor from his hand. She placed it on the table next to him and removed a pair of scissors from her pocket and begun to cut away his long hair until it was short enough to shave from his head where she then removed what remained of it until he was bald._

_She placed the scissors on the table and took a small syringe out of her pocket and removed the cover of it._

_"Nice and still, Soldier" she flicked the needle, making sure the air bubbles had left._

In his _weak state, Bucky put up what little of a fight as he could as she plunged the needle into his neck._

 

Bucky woke with a start as the memory had flooded into his mind while he slept, his body drenched in sweat and the knitted quilt had fallen to the floor by the sofa. The fire in the log burner was burning away intensely. Bucky wore nothing but his underwear and socks. A pot sat bubbling away atop the log burner, with what smelt like a stew of some kind. Infront of the fire a makeshift clothing rack had been stood upright, hanging on it were Buckys clothes, the blood had been cleaned off of his clothes as best as possible, and they were now drying by the fire, steam rising from the fabric.

Bucky slowly moved into an upright position. He looked down at his chest. It had been cleaned and redressed again. The stab wound already seemed to have healed partially. Bucky leant down and picked the quilt from the floor and flung it over his back, and held on to the front of it. He felt dehydrated and weak. 

The sun was out and Bucky assumed had must have slept through the entirety of yesterday, it had been the first comfortable bed he had had in at least a month, and his back was undoubtedly grateful for it. His backpack had been placed next to the sofa, Bucky leant down, wincing at the ache in his side and picked the bag up an set it on the sofa next to himself he opened it and inspected the contents. Everything in the pack felt out of place, Anthea had rummaged through his bag and taken the weapons he had stashed inside but apart from that nothing else seemed to have been tampered with. Bucky removed the small journal from the bag and flipped it open to an empty page. He grabbed a pen from inside the pack and started to write down the memory he had just re-lived. 

He wrote everything down now. At first, everything had been too much of a blur for him to remember and trying to write down any of it would have been impossible for Bucky as he could barely make sense of it all, but now the memories were steadily flowing back into his mind. Rarely did he remember anything useful.

He had only come to Alaska because of the voice that didn't belong to him that played over and over in his head. 

_He thought that when he got here, he would get some answers. Only things had gotten all the more confusing to him._

_" **Latitude:**  61.635639 |  **Longitude:**  -158.589295, You won't remember until you are free"  the words had played over in his head. Arms locked in place by rstraints built into the arms of the chair. He couldn't match a person to it or figure out why he knew it. Pain shot through his mind and it all went blank._

Bucky has pulled away from his thoughts as the door flew open, Anthea strode inside the hut and shut the door tightly behind herself.

"Oh" was all she managed to say at the sight of Bucky sitting upright. She dropped the log basket by the door and strolled over to him while pulling off her glove and placed the back of her hand on his forehead. Bucky flinched at the motion, her action startled him slightly, and he felt a familiar fight or flight sensation in the back of his brain. He quickly regained himself.

"Well, the fever broke before it ever really showed up. You're lucky you have the serum. The closest doctor is half a day's hike with no snow, and considering the blizzard right now it would take a lot longer than that" she said matter of factly before she started to pull her gear off. She hung her coat up on the hoot by the door and left her heavy boots on with the ends of her thermal trousers tucked into them.

"Thank you" Bucky gestured to the bandages. She nodded in acknowledgement before heading into the small bedroom. A few minutes later she returned holding a pile of clothing. 

"I hope you don't mind that I washed all your shit, but anyway, put these on their about your size, the shirt might be a bit small for you, but it will do for now. They were my dads, I've still got a few more in a box under the bed, take them all for all I care" she handed him the long sleeved button up shirt and the trousers. "We built this place together."

Anthea grabbed one of the chairs by the table and pulled it over to where Bucky sat. He stood up, wearing nothing but his boxers and pulled the jeans on and left the shirt unbuttoned. Anthea eyed his scarred shoulder that met metal and only broke her gaze when he spoke. 

"You took my guns" He sounded like a child who had had their allowance confiscated. 

"I took your guns" the corners of her mouth twitched "Don't worry you can have them back after we talk. I didn't do it to make you feel vulnerable. Just a precaution."

"Then talk" he sat back down.

"My name is Anthea Fisher. I worked for SHIELD, I was undercover in an ex KGB cell. I didn't find out they were a Hydra cell until three years into my cover, by that point I was in deep, they trusted me enough to bring me into some of their more unsavoury plans. They were working on a project that I deemed too dangerous for use, I couldn't let them finish their research, the repercussions that humanity would have faced if they were to complete it was too great a risk. I made a call, I broke my cover, killed the team working on it and burnt the lab down with all of the files, and as I made my escape, you were there. I had seen you a few times before that. They would send you out on top-secret missions for 'the greater good' as they would put it. It was their way of saying you were an assassin. You tried to stop me. We fought." She stands up and moves to where he is sat her fingers push his unbuttoned shirt to the side. She can feel his breathing as she does it. She pinpoints a thick and ugly scar on his rib cage just under his heart. "I figured I must have left a mark. I put a knife into your lung. I was aiming higher at the time."

She pulls her hand away from his chest and paces towards the pot of broth bubbling atop the wood burner. Giving it a brief stir before heading off to the kitchen and removing two metal cups from the cupboard. She walks back towards the fire and fills both mugs up with the broth and holds one out to him. He nods slightly as he takes the mug from her. 

"You left me with quite a scar as well" She takes a sip from the boiling hot liquid, showing no sign of discomfort at the heat" The fire I started in the lab was big, we fought while the lab was burning around us. At one point you pinned me to a burning table. My back has the scars to prove it" 

Bucky said nothing. His brow furrowed as he tried to remember what she was telling him. But none of it made sense to his mind. He could tell there was a lot she wasn't saying to him.

"Did you know who I was? When you were there" He takes a long sip of the broth, not looking at her.

" ** _James Barnes_**. A victim of circumstance. I read your file. I'm sorry for what they did to you" she murmured.

"Why am I here?" Bucky asked, his eyes now focusing on hers. "I knew the exact location of this cabin. Why?"

She hesitates for a split second.  _I saw that._ Bucky can't help but think. "I am rather inclined to find that out myself as well. But whatever the case, now you're here, Hydra will follow. I say we have a day before we need to leave, to keep ahead of them."

" _We?_ " his eyebrow raise.

"You can't expect to bring all this shit to my front door and for me to not get involved!" she snaps. "You have until tomorrow morning to feel up for a long hike. Speaking of feeling better, How did you get that stab wound?"

"About four days ago, a pair of Hydra agents were tailing me. I don't think they actually planned for me to fight them, they would have called back up if they knew I was onto them. The blade was in deep, didn't want to take it out instantly, I thought they knicked something, so I broke into veterinarian facility and tried patching myself up there. I didn't hang around long" It was the most she had heard him say in one go since he had got to the cabin.

"I will redress it before we leave tomorrow, It shouldn't take long for your body to heal now that you have slept and are eating food" She finished the last of her broth and placed the mug down on the floor. 

"I know a guy who runs an airfield about 120 miles north of here. We can hike into town and get a car before heading there, he owes me one, albeit he probably doesn't think that means lending me a plane indefinitely" Anthea pulls her coat off of where she hung it and zipped it up to her chin after putting it on.

 "If we're leaving, I need to burn bridges. Starting with all the information I have stored here" Anthea grabs the gloves and heads outside, shutting the door behind her.

Bucky stands up and starts to button his shirt. Thinking back to when she touched one of his scars. The memory hits him, so suddenly he can't even make sense of it all.  
  


_Cold fingers brush lightly over his skin making their way to the scarred skin of his shoulder. He shudders._

_'Surely your not cold?'_

_'I would have thought a creature like you couldn't feel such things'_

_The voice is a quiet whisper in his ears, she speaks in fluent Russian, and the soldier just stares at the ground._

_He looks up._

_'Please.'_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for my absence. A lot went on in the last 2 months, I am happy to say I am now writing again!

**Author's Note:**

> This is a complete rework of a story I started last year, while I only uploaded two chapters of that I had much more written, only I'm going back and completely rewriting all of it as a new story as my writing wasn't up to scratch.


End file.
